


The special delivery

by Adara_Rose



Series: Cobblepot family values [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dark Comedy, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: Bruce is eagerly awaiting the postman. It is a very special day.





	The special delivery

Bruce Cobblepot was lounging on the marble steps leading up to the mansion he called home, looking decidedly bored.

“Master Bruce, you are going to catch the sun” Alfred admonished him gently, holding a large black umbrella over the youth’s head to make sure not a single ray fell on the boy’s sickly white skin.

“Not if you hold still, Alfred. Besides, I expect the postman in the next few minutes.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, master Bruce?”

“Well, when father heard what he said about him and dad he wanted to turn him into a modern day Saint Bartholomew, so this is much kinder.”

The butler made a noise of disapproval.

“Can’t you watch from safely inside, master Bruce?” He complained. They’d just had UV-safe windows installed in the entire mansion.

“No, Alfred, I can’t.” Bruce replied firmly, and that was the end of the discussion.

 

Bruce was just considering going back inside and have Alfred make him some hemlock tea, when he saw the postman slowly open the gate. He was carrying a large parcel, contents which Bruce had ordered for this specific reason. The rat-like little man looked decidedly spooked as he slowly made his way up the neatly raked driveway, as if waiting for a rabid dog to come running and bite him in the leg. To be fair, Edward did make sure all his dogs were infected with rabies the moment he bought them, but today they were all in the kennel. Bruce had made a bet with his father how many of them would have been killed by their fellows once he got home. 

Bruce sat up, demonic glee twisting his elegant features.

“At last” he breathed.

 

The postman had spotted Bruce now, and seeing the look on the youth’s face he stopped, trembling. But he had a job to do, and he was going to do it. So he kept walking, hands trembling with dread.

“Closer” Bruce breathed, eyes gleaming.

 

The postman took a few more steps, and then he stepped on the specific piece of road that Bruce had waited for. There was a creak. A crack. And then the cleverly hidden trapdoor which had taken bruce all week opened, sending the screaming man falling into a deep, dark pit.

 

Bruce stood up, beaming, and walked over to the opening. He looked down at the dazed, confused man where he lay on the bottom of the shallow pit. Then he picked up the cardboard box that he had thrown to the side.

 

“I don’t like people who talk ill of my parents” Bruce said conversationally, “not even the still breathing ones.”

He opened the package slowly, then tipped it over and let the contents fall into the pit, landing on top of the postman.

“I recommend you lay very still” he said sagely, “scorpions are skittish creatures and I don’t want you frightening them.”

Then he closed the trapdoor and secured it with the padlock he’d kept in his pocket for just this purpose. He could hear muffled screams below.

 

“Now will you please go back inside, Master Bruce?” Alfred begged, and Bruce nodded.

“Yes. Our task here is done. Let’s hope he learns before he dies.”

“Very good, master Bruce.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Saint Bartholomew suffered martyrdom by being skinned alive.


End file.
